Porthos' kiss is bruising and hard when he can get one, though it's only at the corner of Aramis' lips before he returns his devotion to long, full thrusts into that slick, waiting, tight heat. It's everything he's been promised and more. "I'll kiss them from your cheeks if you do," Porthos pants. Sweat beads on his skin, though it only serves to make him glisten, and he continues. Hips snapping, a wild and desperate pace without rhythm, he means to find that spot Aramis likes so very much.

"Yes, Aramis," he moans loudly, not caring for the neighbours or what they hear. "God, yes, you feel so good. Breathe, deep, and I want that corset to hurt," he growls. "I want you to have to beg for each breath and when you don't know if you can take in enough air, then I'll make you come so hard you nearly pass out."